The Daredevil eBook

And with much haste I took my departure from the Capitol
of the State of Harpeth to Twin Oaks in the car of
my Uncle, the General Robert, for I knew that upon
this evening I must make a new and terrible toilet
and I would require much time thereto.

The good old Nannette and my Governess Madam Fournet
have always taught me that the art of a lovely woman’s
toilet could not be performed in less than two hours,
and I felt that I had better begin in the way to which
I was accustomed and go as far as I could in that
direction, then finish in the manly manner which would
now be of a necessity to me.

The good Bonbon, whom I now know is called Sam, had
laid out my evening apparel, from the queer dancing
shoes with flat heels to a very stiff and high collar,
upon a couch in the huge room, and after my bath I
began to put them upon me with as much rapidity as
was possible to me. For a few moments all went
well, even up to having tucked the fine and very stiff
white linen shirt garment into the silky black cloth
trousers, but a trouble arose when I put upon myself
the beautiful long coat that is in the shape of a raven,
which the American gentleman wears for evening toilet.
My shoulders were sufficiently broad to hold it nicely
in place and it fell with a gracefulness upon my hips,
but at my waist it collapsed on account of a slimness
in that locality. The fit of the tweed, which
had been like to that of a bag, had been very correct
and had not revealed the curve of waist, but now it
was manifest.

“What is it that you must do, Roberta, to disguise
your roundness of a young woman? All is lost!”
I said to myself in despair. Then a thought came
to me. I had never been habited in a corset in
my life on account of a prejudice entertained to that
garment by my Nannette, but I bethought me to remove
that shirt and also the silk one underneath and swath
about me one of the heavy towels of the bath.
Immediately I did so and fastened it in place with
a needle and thread from the gentleman’s traveling
case that I found in the pocket of my bag. Over
it I then drew the silk undershirt and then that of
fine linen, before again putting myself into the black
raven’s dress. Behold, all roundness and
slimness had disappeared and when the collar was added
I could see that I was as beautifully habited as either
Mr. Peter Scudder or that Mr. Saint Louis of the boat.

“Roberta of Grez and Bye,” I said to myself
as I looked into the tall mirror, “it is indeed
a sorrow to you that you cannot make your courtesy
to that Gouverneur Faulkner habited in the white lace
and tulle garment that is in those trunks which you
have lost in that New York, with your throat that
your Russian Cossack has said was like a lily at the
blush of dawn, bare to his eyes, but you are a nice,
clean, upstanding American boy who can be his friend.
You must be and you must play the game.”

And in the language of that Mr. Willie Saint Louis,
it was “some game.”